


Good Work if You Can Get It

by justtheonce



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Take Your Fandom to Work Day, Tom's totally cool in this one don't sweat it, realistic depiction of life as a UPS driver, ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtheonce/pseuds/justtheonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca is a UPS driver who has to deliver big heavy boxes to Aubrey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Work if You Can Get It

Beca really wanted to meet the guy who invented flat packed furniture, ask him why he thought he that was an acceptable thing to do, and then beat the ever loving shit out of him. She had a list of people she’d like to take a crack at, and that guy was at the top. Of all the widely varying types of things people ordered online instead of going out and picking up themselves, furniture -- always heavy and awkwardly shaped -- was definitely the worst.

 

It figured that on a ninety degree day in July, during which Beca had heard the ‘FedUp’ joke twice and been asked approximately seventy-five times if her truck had air conditioning and/or if it was hot enough for her yet, she’d have multiple pieces of flat packed furniture to deliver.

 

It was, of course, typical that said furniture was addressed to a house in the neighborhood she delivered last each day. Every time she walked into the cargo area to get a package, she saw those big ass boxes lying there, mocking her. By the time she turned into Bella Vista that evening, she’d developed a pretty big grudge against them. She was also sweaty, and tired, and on the high side of cranky.

 

As she slowed to a stop at 117 Singer Street, carefully lining up the rear end of her truck with the driveway, she noticed the door to the garage was open and it half full of moving boxes. By the time she’d taken her handcart to the back of the truck and rolled up the door, a blonde had exited the house, marched down the driveway, and stopped facing Beca with one hand extended.

 

She was the kind of pretty that could make average women resent her very existence. 

 

“Aubrey Posen,” she said. 

 

“Yeah, I saw that on the labels,” Beca replied. She took in the blonde’s neat ponytail and pristine, pastel pink shirt before holding up one hand to display how dirty it was and added, “You don’t want to shake this.”

 

“I can assist you with the--”

 

“Not necessary, I got it,” Beca interrupted as she climbed into her truck.

 

“But you’re so--”

 

“Small?” Beca asked. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” She started sliding a box containing a coffee table out of her way so she could start with the biggest, heaviest bastard -- a tall, eight drawer bureau, judging by the printing on the side -- and get it out of the way first.

 

“That box must weigh more than you do, I don’t see how you can lift it alone, and if you were to hurt yourself on my property--”

 

“Your concern is touching, but I’ve got this.”

 

“Look, it’s just that if you drop it and it breaks, it’ll be a grade A pain in my ass to--”

 

“Let me stop you right there,” Beca said, straightening up and turning toward the pretty bitch. “I’ve been doing this for three years. I am  _ literally  _ a professional box mover. So here’s how this is gonna go down: I’m not going to lift any of them. I am going to slide these packages onto my handcart there, and then I am going to roll that cart into your garage where I will slide the boxes onto the floor. And you will stay out of my way.” 

 

“There’s no need for the attitude. I was offering to  _ help _ ,” Aubrey said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was kind of pouting, and Beca was kind of enjoying it.

 

Beca took a deep breath and reminded herself that kicking a customer in the eye would certainly get her fired before saying, “Thank you, but I don’t need it. It’s honestly better if you just back off and let me do my thing, OK?” 

 

“Fine,” Aubrey said. She stepped away a bit, picking a spot on the edge of her yard where she wasn’t hovering but she could still watch nervously. She had a schedule to keep. She only had a week to put together the new furniture, unpack all her boxes, and get her house in order before she started her new job. Having to call an ambulance or deal with replacing damaged furniture would greatly impact her schedule; she simply did not have time for that sort of thing.

 

Aubrey didn’t know what to do with her hands. She was used to solving problems and doing things for herself; standing by while someone else handled her property wasn’t easy. Especially a tiny UPS driver with a shitty attitude.

 

A tiny UPS driver with a shitty attitude and gorgeous blue eyes and, Aubrey noted as she watched the woman bend to lift one end of the largest box, a very nice ass. God damn it.

 

She wished she’d asked for a name earlier, because she really didn’t want to start talking again now and cause a distraction that she imagined would only culminate in the small brunette winding up under a huge box like the wicked witch wound up under that house. Although, in a world with no consequences, that would be rather amusing, and maybe serve her right for being such a defensive jerkwad.

 

She watched the brunette tilt the box, maneuver it onto the tail end of the truck, and lay it flat. Her progress was slow and awkward, and Aubrey was not feeling encouraged. 

 

“What do I call you?” Aubrey asked as the little, brown clad figure hopped down onto the street, leaned the handcart on the bumper, and straddled it. 

 

“People call me a lot of things,” Beca answered, taking a moment to turn and smirk. A little of the hair at her temples had escaped her ponytail and was curling in the humidity, and she had a smear of grey dirt on her jaw. Aubrey clenched her own jaw in annoyance upon realizing she found it adorable. “But my name is Beca.”

 

Beca turned back to her task, grabbing the end of the box, dragging it toward herself, and then shuffling her feet back a bit before repeating the process. The muscles in her forearms stood out with the effort each time she pulled.

 

“I realize how this looks,” Beca offered.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“I know you’re waiting for this whole thing to go to hell,” Beca continued, “but this thing does weigh more than I do, so I have to think it through and make all my movements deliberate and precise. To you, it looks like I’m struggling, but I’m really just applying years of experience to making sure your shit doesn’t get busted.” By the time she finished her short speech, the long, flat package was sticking halfway out of the truck. Beca clambered back inside and gave it a shove, sliding it perfectly onto the cart.

 

“I see,” Aubrey said slowly as Beca added a smaller box -- one of the end tables -- to the load and began wheeling it up the driveway. 

 

Aubrey trailed along behind, feeling useless and unsure of what to do, as she watched Beca lay down the cart and slide the heavy boxes neatly onto the floor in the garage before going back for the next load.

 

“Hey there, Aubrey!”

 

Aubrey startled at the sound; she’d been so focused on observing Beca’s use of leverage and strength to move an item that must outweigh her by forty pounds that she hadn’t noticed her neighbor approach. “Hello, Chloe,” she said, making an effort to sound friendly. It really wouldn’t do to make enemies of her neighbors, although so far Chloe seemed so sweet and cheerful that Aubrey thought the redhead might not have ever had an enemy in her life.

 

“Oh, your furniture is here!”

 

“Yes, and they sent a midget to deliver it,” Aubrey quietly noted.

 

“You mean Beca?” Chloe asked with a giggle. “Don’t worry about her, she’s got this. She’s been our drive for a few years, she’s a real pro.”

 

“I’m starting to realize that,” Aubrey admitted as they watched Beca slide boxes onto her cart. “She appears to have a good grasp on physics and balance.”

 

“She’s also cute as a button, funny, and  _ single _ ,” Chloe stage whispered, adding a shoulder bump for good measure.

 

“ _ Chloe _ ,” Aubrey admonished, desperately hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt and wondering why a woman she’d known for three days was already trying to get involved in her personal life. 

 

“Just saying,” Chloe said. The chuckle she threw in heavily implied that Aubrey’s fear concerning the color of her face was justified.

 

“She’s also rather snappish, and I don’t like her attitude,” Aubrey hissed as Beca took up the cart handle and headed for the garage again.

 

“Hey there, World’s Bestest Tiniest UPS Girl!” Chloe sang out. 

 

Beca waved a middle finger, but the “Hiya, Chlo” she tossed out seemed friendly enough.

 

“Do you, by any chance, have a package for me on there?” Chloe asked as Beca moved the boxes off the cart. 

 

“No, but I have one for Tom,” Beca replied. The way she addressed Chloe was kind and familiar, and it sort of pissed Aubrey off.

 

“Same thing,” Chloe said.

 

“Pretty sure it’s a baseball bat, so unless you’re planning to join his team, I’d say it’s not.”

 

“Damn it!” Chloe said. “I ordered a Tshirt I really want to wear to karaoke Saturday night.”

 

“It’s only Wednesday,” Aubrey pointed out.

 

“True,” Chloe agreed. “I’m just really looking forward to it. It’s got this unicorn on it and it says ‘Majestic as Fuck.’”

 

Aubrey’s mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide, but Beca just laughed. A loud, sincere, almost ugly laugh that turned Aubrey’s stomach in a way that was unpleasant only because it was embarrassingly inconvenient.

 

“You’re one of a kind, Beale,” the brunette said as she picked up her newly emptied handcart. She offered a smile -- a genuine smile -- as she passed. “Two more boxes, then I’m out of your hair, ma’am.”

 

“Aubrey,” the blonde blurted out. “Aubrey is fine.” Beca just nodded and went back to the truck.

 

“So anyway,” Chloe said, lowering her voice a bit, “I know Beca can come across a little harsh, but it’s just that she’s a very small woman in a traditionally male profession. People underestimate her all the time, and it drives her nuts.”

 

“I can see how that would be annoying,” Aubrey said, suddenly feeling guilty about their earlier interaction. “But surely she can understand why someone might think she’s too slight.”

 

Chloe shrugged. “It’s a sore spot for her,” she said simply. “Tom and I would be happy to help put this stuff together or whatever,” she added, waving at the boxes that were, Aubrey noticed, neatly stacked by room.

 

“Thanks, I may take you up on that,” she said. “What’s the etiquette on tipping UPS drivers?”

 

“You can try, but she’ll fight you on it,” Chloe informed her. “Oh! Hold on a sec!” She then trotted over to the cab of Beca’s truck and climbed in.

 

“Outta my truck, Beale!” Beca called from the cargo area.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chloe muttered as she climbed back down and bounded back over to Aubrey with a big, battered travel cup in her hand. “Fill this with ice water,” Chloe instructed, handing it to Aubrey. “She’ll love you forever.”

 

“Really now?” Aubrey asked, eyebrow raised, as she took it.

 

“Well,” Chloe said with a shrug and a wink. “It’s a start.”

 

Aubrey slipped into the house as Beca made her final trip to the garage. “You know you aren’t supposed to be in the package car, Chlo,” Beca chided. “I can get in trouble for that shit.”

 

“Sorry, Becs. Aubrey wanted to get you some fresh ice water.”

 

“ _ She _ wanted to, or  _ you  _ wanted her to? Because  _ she  _ kind of seems like a bitch.”

 

“Oh my god, no! She’s really nice, she’s just stressed out. She has all this work to do to get settled in before her new job starts, and she’s all alone,” Choe explained.

 

“Uh huh,” Beca grunted as she slid the last box into place.

 

“As in, she’s single and new in town,” Chloe added. 

 

“Seriously?” Beca asked as she stood up, ready to blame heat and exertion for the redness in her face if Chloe mentioned it. “You’re trying to -- oh my god, Chlo --”

 

“Just putting it out there,” Chloe said innocently. “What you do with that information is entirely up to you.”

 

Beca was saved from having to reply by Aubrey’s return.

 

“Here you go,” the blonde said, holding the cup at arm’s length and offering a tight smile.

 

“Thanks,” Beca said as she accepted it. “It’s really hot in that truck and all my water and stuff is warm by now, so thanks.” 

 

They all stood there for a few seconds -- Aubrey with her lips pressed together in something like a smile, Beca with her mouth slightly open as if she meant to speak as soon as she thought of something to say, and Chloe beaming at them both.

 

Chloe thought Beca and Aubrey would make an absolutely precious couple. She didn’t really have a good reason for it; she hardly knew Aubrey and she’d known Beca long enough to know that while she didn’t really have a type, she’d probably say Aubrey wasn’t it.

 

Choe had a good feeling about it, though. She wasn’t the kind of person who had to have a rational explanation or even any evidence, really; it felt right to her, and that was all the reason she needed.

 

“So, yeah, I’ll just go get Tom’s box,” Beca finally said, raising her water cup in something like a salute as she turned away.

 

Chloe followed her, walking backwards the first few steps and saying, “Come get us when you’re ready to assemble that stuff, Aubrey. Tom’s pretty good at that kind of thing, and I’ll bring wine.”

 

“Sounds great,” Aubrey said as she pressed the garage door button. 

 

Chloe turned around as it began its descent, trotting to catch up to Beca. “Soooo, Becs,” she said, leaning against the truck. “Aubrey’s pretty, don’t you think?”

 

“Not doing this with you,” Beca answered.

 

“Doing what?”

 

Beca stepped into the cab and handed over the long, narrow box. “I’ve known you for years, dude, I know that sneaky gleam in your eye.”

 

“Who, me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“No, I’m delightful and charming,” Chloe said, smiling widely.

 

“Whatever. I gotta go, I’ll see you later.”

 

“Don’t work too hard,” Chloe said with a wink, pushing off the truck and strolling back to her own house. 

 

Beca started the engine and pulled away. She agreed with Chloe that Aubrey was pretty; anyone with eyes would. It was just too bad her personality sucked. Her legs were really something, though. Yep.

 

* * *

 

On Thursday, Beca pulled up to the curb in front of Chloe and Tom’s house to find Tom in the driveway, washing his wife’s car. He dropped the hose and trotted over as she stepped down from the cab.

“Hey, thanks,” he said. “Chloe’s been dying for this thing to get here.”

“Yeah, she mentioned it yesterday,” Beca said. “She seemed pretty disappointed all I had was your bat.”

“She was pouting when she came back in, it was adorable,” he said.

“You two are disgusting with the lovey dovey shit.”

“I know,” he said, flashing his perfect smile. “What can I say, though? My wife is the best human on Earth.”

“She’s OK.”

“Don’t be jealous,” he said with a chuckle. “If she has her way, you’ll be happily tied down very soon.” 

“Wait, what?”

“She wants to set you up with our new neighbor,” he explained, jerking his head to indicate Aubrey’s house. “She thinks you two look cute together.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that. Except ‘nope.’” 

“I’m not so sure you get to have a say; you know how Chloe is,” he said. “Hey, wanna bet I can hit the door with this?” He tossed the little box containing Chloe’s T shirt up in the air and caught it. 

“From here? Too easy. Go across the street.”

He thought about it for a moment and then shook his head with a laugh. “Now you’re trying to get me in trouble,” he said. “You coming out with us Saturday night?”

“Nah, I have a gig,” Beca said. “Another time, though.”

“Alright, well thanks for this,” Tom said, waving the box around. “See you later.”

“Later, dude,” she answered as she climbed into her truck.

Beca made her way down Singer Street, made a few more deliveries, and turned onto Cadence Court where she dropped off three cases of bottled water to the guy she was pretty sure was a doomsday prepper. He seemed a little nuts, but he seemed to like her, so she figured that in the unlikely event of a zombie apocalypse she could join forces with him.

On her way back down Singer she saw that Tom was back outside, rinsing off Chloe’s hatchback. He waved, so Beca waved back before returning her attention to driving. 

She made a point not to turn her head as she passed Aubrey’s house. She told herself it was because if she did so then Tom would see it and tell Chloe about it and it would only encourage the redhead’s meddling, but she knew deep down it was because she had no desire to admit -- even to herself -- that she kind of just wanted to see the blonde.

Aubrey was in her garage, looking for the box containing her collection of vintage pitch pipes, when she heard the engine of Beca’s UPS truck. Aubrey stood and turned toward the sound, raising her hand in a wave as the truck went by. When Beca drove by without even looking Aubrey’s way, Aubrey told herself she was irritated because it was rude; she had no desire to admit, even to herself, that she was disappointed.

 

* * *

 

The fifty inch flat screen TV and the entertainment center to hold it showed up on Friday. Beca spent a lot of time cursing Aubrey Posen under her breath all day, coming up with as many different combinations of abusive terms as she could. Every time she walked into the cargo area and saw those two massive boxes, she tried to come up with a new disparaging term.

She was particularly proud of ‘dickish twat waffle’ and ‘prissy bitch tits.’ 

It wasn’t the fact that the woman had bought half a house worth of furniture online that Beca had to lug around, or the fact that the woman was a bit of an asshole, or even the fact that yeah, OK, she was easy enough on the eyes to be hard on the heart rate.

It was the fact that all three of those things were true, all at once, combined with the fact that the temperature and humidity were both nearing 100, that put Beca in the kind of mood that might cause her to do or say something that would leave her unemployed or in a prison cell.

She just about threw her handcart out the door, and she muttered unflattering things under breath as she dragged it around back. She expected Aubrey would come striding down the drive to stand around looking superior and being irritating, but by the time Beca had gotten the damned entertainment center on the cart the garage door hadn’t even opened.

It seemed like no one was home, but a quick look around revealed a note taped to the garage door. Beca figured it was probably a detailed set of instructions she didn’t need and likely wouldn’t follow. She dragged her cart up the drive and laid it down before she tore off the note and unfolded it.

_ Beca -- The garage door code is 4164.  -- Aubrey _

Short and to the point. No extra bullshit. Beca could appreciate that because while most people left work at a certain time and picked up where they left off when they came in the next day, a UPS driver can’t go home until they’re finished delivering all the shit on their truck. 

The garage wasn’t air conditioned, but it was cooler than the god awful heat in the driveway, and Beca took a deep breath and sighed as she felt it on her face. She rolled her cart inside and saw that most of the moving boxes had been unpacked, flattened out and neatly piled on the floor. She was glad they’d been stacked off to the side, out of her way.

In her way, however -- as if someone had looked around, found the spot Beca was most likely to drop the boxes, and chosen it on purpose -- was a cooler with another note taped to the lid. Beca nudged it aside with her foot and unloaded the boxes before taking a seat on said boxes and opening the note.

_ Beca -- Chloe informed me that tipping is not acceptable; perhaps this is. Thank you for your hard work. Also, this is the last of the furniture. -- Aubrey _

Inside the cooler, Beca found two bottles of water -- one cold, one frozen solid -- a banana, and a large, apparently homemade granola bar. 

“Score,” she said to herself, snatching up the frozen bottle and holding it against the back of her neck. She opened the plastic bag containing the granola bar and took a sniff. “Fucking chocolate malt? Best day ever.”

“Do you often talk to yourself?” 

Beca startled right off her perch and onto the hard concrete floor, dropping the snack and bottle, and squealed out a quick “Jesus shit fuck!” before she could stop herself. 

Aubrey, standing in the wide garage doorway, was clasping both hands over her mouth, as if it took a great effort to hold in her laughter but she felt it imperative that she do so.

“You scared me,” Beca stated accusingly. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I live here,” Aubrey said, walking forward. “This is my house.” She bent down and picked up the frozen bottle from where it had rolled to a stop near a still packed box, and held it out to Beca, who was still sitting on the floor. “Do you need help getting up?”

“No,” Beca answered, taking the bottle and reapplying it to her neck.

“Then why are you still sitting on the floor?”

“Concrete’s cool,” Beca said with a shrug. “And as you can probably tell from my disgustingly sweaty appearance, I’m really hot.”

Aubrey looked her over, decided against agreeing that Beca was hot, and said, “Not disgusting. Kind of gross, but not quite disgusting.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“Yes, well, I’m an incredibly lovely person.”

Beca laughed. “Did you make that granola bar?”

“Yes,” Aubrey answered simply. 

“This is like,” Beca said, gesturing toward the cooler, “alarmingly on point.”

“So?”

“So,” Beca drawled as she finally hauled herself up off the floor. “Do you, like, have a UPS driver in the family or something?”

Aubrey knitted her brow and pursed her lips. “No.”

“Then how did you know--”

“Oh,” Aubrey said. “Common sense. Your hands get dirty, but you can hold a banana by the peel without having to touch what you’re actually eating. Then there’s one cold water to drink right away, and a frozen one to drink later when it melts. Hydration is important.”

“And the granola bar?” Beca asked evenly, despite the fact that there was something kind of attractive about Aubrey’s thought process.

“Well, I make the best granola bars in the state. Everyone loves them.”

“Uh huh,” Beca grunted. 

“Go ahead and try it, you’ll see.”

“Right now?” Beca asked. Even though the thing had smelled great and she was really looking forward to eating it, she was reluctant to comply. It just wasn’t in her nature, really.

“Yes, right now,” Aubrey said. 

“Maybe I’m not hungry right now.”

“You were practically salivating over it when I walked in,” Aubrey observed, picking up the luckily still bagged granola bar and holding it out. “Just taste it.”

Beca choked down all the dirty jokes that rushed to the forefront of her mind and said, “You’re really putting me on the spot here and it’s making me a little uncomfortable.”

“You’re kind of implying you doubt the tastiness of my granola bars and it’s a little annoying,” Aubrey huffed.

“You’re kind of adorable when you get annoyed,” Beca shot back, slapping her hand over her own mouth as soon as the words were out.

Aubrey just stared, open mouthed, still holding the granola bar out in front of her. Then she closed her mouth, cocked her head, and said, “Your eyes are kind of beautiful.”

Beca removed her hand from her mouth and took the granola bar. “Yeah, well,” she said, raising her voice a bit, “your legs look great in that skirt.”

“Really now? Well, watching you move huge boxes is kind of a turn on,” Aubrey said loudly.

“Oh, OK, well you might gave the prettiest face I’ve ever seen!” Beca said, louder still.

“And you look unfairly sexy in that uniform!” Aubrey yelled, poking Beca’s collarbone with a finger. “It’s distracting.”

Beca looked down at the finger still jammed into her chest and said quietly, “If you don't remove that, I will kiss you, I swear to god.”

“Prove it,” Aubrey retorted, her voice low and defiant.

Beca tossed the bag and bottle in the general direction of the cooler and grabbed Aubrey by the back of the neck, pressing their lips together with a sense of urgency and eagerly accepting the blonde’s probing tongue moments later.

When Chloe showed up shortly thereafter to investigate the shouts she’d heard, she found them kissing furiously in the garage with Beca’s hands in Aubrey’s hair and Aubrey’s hands under Beca’s shirt.

“Called it!” she yelled out triumphantly, pointing her finger and bouncing up and down. 

The pair jumped apart and snapped their faces toward the intrusion, making Chloe laugh and say, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Aubrey placed both hands on her stomach and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Beca covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“OK,  _ fine _ , you can tell me all about it later. I can’t wait to tell Tom! Carry on!” Chloe said cheerfully before skipping back to her own house, giggling all the way.

“So,” Beca began, scratching her head. “I, um, I still have a lot of work to do, so.”

“You should get going,” Aubrey agreed. “But if you come by after, I’ll make dinner.”

“Does that offer include the possibility of more kissing?” Beca asked, smirk firmly back in place.

“More like a certainty,” Aubrey said.

“Then I’m in. I’ll have to shower and stuff. I can be back around eight?” Beca picked up her cart with one hand and her snacks with the other and started back to her truck.

“Eight it is,” Aubrey agreed with a nod.

“See you then,” Beca said over her shoulder.

“Oh, and Beca?” Aubrey called as she watched Beca drag the cart into the truck.

“Yeah?”

“Wear the uniform.”

Beca dropped the cart but recovered quickly, throwing up a salute and saying, “Will do.”

Aubrey pressed the garage door button, and Beca watched it go all the way down before starting her truck and pulling away.


End file.
